


Wispy

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e17 Mother's Little Helper, Gen, Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After releasing the souls, Sam takes a minute to reflect on the difference between the pretty little things in the jars and his own, blinding fistful of pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wispy

"I think there’s something wrong with my soul, Dean."

"If I’d only been able to make that crossroads deal, I could’ve spared you Hell, and everything you went through. There would have been no first seal, certainly no last seal, no Lucifer at all. But, they wouldn’t take it."

"The souls I let out, they were so…normal. About yea big, kind of wispy. Soft. Mine, though. You remember, when Death pulled it out. No one could look at it, it was too much. I think _I'm_ too much. I mean, I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could just be…wispy," he says wistfully. "I don’t want anyone to look at mine twice, or worry about it, or have to make a deal with Death to get it. I can’t believe that fucked-up thing…is inside me."

"I bet mine’s gross. You know? Like a burn victim or something. What was it Cas said? Kind of like a skinned animal. You think that’s why it was so bright, like, candy coating melted off? Dean?"

He’s not sure why Dean’s looking at him like he’s gonna cry.

"You okay?" He asks Dean.

"I wish I could have a different one," he says more quietly. "You think they can read them like minds? The angels, I mean. Stained with demon blood, with every stupid move." He shakes his head. "I’m glad I can’t read it. Just one more reason to not want to step up and do the things I gotta do. It probably has everything listed in it. Not that I deserve to hide from the things I've done; I don't. Just, maybe it'd be nice if I could spend eternity with something people would want to look at."

"Seriously, Dean, are you okay?" he asks with a hint of fear. Cause Dean won't stop staring, and quietly crying.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he sighs. "I'll just." He gets up to leave. "I shouldn't have had that drink," he admits. 

Dean wants to say something, maybe. Sam pauses, even though he's not quite sure he wants to hear what it is just yet.

"I wonder if that grace is gone yet," Sam wonders.

"That's how you really feel?!" Dean blurts out.

Sam stares for a minute. "About what?" he finally has to ask. 

" _That's_ how you really feel," Dean says.

"Uh, probably. It's honesty hour," Sam jokes. "I'm curious about souls, I guess. I really didn't mean to bring up this old stuff. I know, you're not having an easy time. I'm sure I didn't help."

" _I'm_ not having an easy time?" Dean asks, incredulous. Sam doesn't know why he's incredulous.

"Hey. Are you okay?" he asks Dean again.


End file.
